VANGUARD(89)

“Of course they won’t.” The loyalty of their GYL class was unquestionable. “But they have a right to know in advance, in case the media contacts someone. We can send a joint email to everyone. Jesus, this is like announcing an engagement.” He gave her a smoldering gaze above his coffee cup, making her blush.

“We should also let the GYL administrative office know about this,” he said. “They also may be contacted.”

“Good thinking. Oh, Sergei and Sevastian.” Sophie scribbled furiously. “They arrive tomorrow from Kaliningrad. I’ll explain to them the importance of keeping a low profile and not talking to the media.” She paused. “Do you have any family you wish to tell?”

“Just my parents. I would be surprised if my mother has not already sent emails to our extended family in Europe, asking how many could make a summer wedding.” Sophie choked on her coffee. “Most of my family is in Orlisia anyway, and, although they are all accounted for, they are likely not in a position to be reading American newspapers.”

“I know,” she said, touching his hand. “My parents can reach out to our extended family. There aren’t many of us and we’re not close. I’ll send an email to Matthew tonight. All my other real friends are either class or at the Parnaas camp.” She smiled ruefully. “We’re not exactly social butterflies, are we?”

“Perhaps not. But the friends we have are true friends who will not betray us.”





-





They had a brief conversation with Signe and Maxwell that night about what was likely to take place over the next week or so. Maxwell looked resigned to the whole thing, as if he’d anticipated this might happen. Signe, who knew what it was like to be the subject of gossip and media speculation, expressed concern for them.

They drove back to Brooklyn to talk to Jeris and Don Swenda via webcam. It had taken Sophie a long time to get her parents set up on Skype, but now even her father could handle a video call.

“I’d like you to meet Michael Nariovsky-Trent,” she said, after telling them about her return to the US. Michael moved into the frame. Her parents looked at him speculatively for a moment.

“Nariovsky-Trent. Your name is familiar,” said Jeris at last. “Weren’t you in Sophie’s GYL class?”

“Yes, Mrs. Swenda. I apologize that we cannot meet in person, but time does not allow it.”

Sophie’s father looked at Michael sharply, his blue eyes boring through the computer screen. “Are you courting my daughter, young man?”

“Yes, sir, that is my intent. With your approval, of course.” Michael seemed quite comfortable, his dashing, formal style well suited for asking a man’s permission to date his daughter. His twenty-nine-year-old daughter who does not require her father’s permission to date anyone! Sophie thought furiously. But this was clearly not a good time to argue. “Sophie means the world to me. My intentions toward her are entirely honorable, sir.”

Don mumbled something about the definition of honorable these days, but seemed to consider Michael’s declaration acceptable. Sophie felt dazed as she explained to her parents what they might see in the media in the days ahead. They promised not to talk to reporters and keep the rest of the family in line.

When they disconnected, she turned to him in shock. “You handled that better than anyone ever should have.”

He laughed and kissed her forehead. “It seemed too early to ask for your hand in marriage. Besides, when the time comes, I will speak to your father in person. That is the appropriate thing to do.” She froze until she saw the teasing glint in his eye. She tried to punch him in the shoulder, but he easily blocked her and kissed her instead.





-





March 2, 2014





On Sunday, just before lunch, Michael and Sophie walked up to the front door of the DeVries estate, loaded down with presents for little Michael. Before they could ring the doorbell, Carter yanked the door open. He looked at Michael and burst into tears. Sophie turned to him in alarm, but she may as well have been a piece of furniture for all the attention he paid her. Michael dropped the gifts and threw his arms around Carter in a crushing embrace.

Sophie stood agog as they hugged each other, pounding one another on the back and spewing obscenities. Eventually they backed off, cursing and punching each other.

“Sophie. Shit, come in.” Carter hugged her tight. She shuffled inside and piled the mountain of presents by the door. Michael and Carter were still whacking at one another, so she peeked around the corner into the den to see Janet holding her son on her lap while she patted him on the back.